


In Bulk

by Arithanas



Series: A Huckleberry Above My Persimmon [8]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mental healt issues (Discussed), Mistmatched romantic orientations, Relationship Problems, Romantic Gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27890836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: Parker and Hardison knew Eliot like the back of their hands. When Eliot began to behave strangely, they knew they had to intervene. Eliot was not ready to get with the program.
Relationships: Mr. Quinn/Eliot Spencer (Leverage)
Series: A Huckleberry Above My Persimmon [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607185
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

Hardison sat with a freshly open Orange Squeeze bottle. He fired up the screen to start researching a couple of promising cases. They had had a very slow Fall. Their investments didn't miss a huge bump on their alternative revenue stream, but the world missed their mischief. The markets have been too stable since they took Eliot’s case…

Hardison tossed himself into the pleasures of dirt-digging. Picking the right target was always a time-consuming task. His work was to find a careful balance of return on investment and safety concerns. for an uninterrupted quarter of an hour, Hardison had been rambling in his head. Then, Parker made a weird noise over his head before starting a mad dash on the catwalk. Hardison followed Parker’s nimble steps across the platform. She was dragging a trail of blue behind her and it almost distracted Hardison from watching her. Hardison didn’t have time to figure out what the blue thing was. In her hurry to get down, Parker hopped over the handrail and came running to him.

“Eliot’s jeans!” Parker shrieked as she slapped the fabric against the control deck.

Their last adventure had torn a big hole in Eliot’s jeans. He had mended it on their way back and had tossed them with their laundry. Still, Hardison didn’t know what Parker was trying to imply.

“What do you want me to do with them?” Hardison asked and saved the information for future use, “Cuff them?”

Parker tilted her head and pointed to the right pocket. Hardison looked at the pocket, but he didn’t know what was there to look at.

“Each time Eliot takes out his pocket knife, he rubs the fabric to pull the knife closer to the edge. He uses his pocket knife fourteen point six times on average each day,” Parker explained. Hardison’s silence became too long for her taste. “Here,” she passed her finger over the fabric, thin from all the times Eliot’s finger rubbed it. “How old are these jeans?”

“How can I know?”

“Two years?” Parker insisted and stepped closer. “Three?”

“Parker…”

“You know Eliot wears his clothes until they are rags. You know he mends and fixes! You know he calculates _years of service_ over price!”

Hardison sighed and let his shoulders slump. Parker was getting somewhere…

“Ok, babe. What is it?”

Parker turned the jeans around without a word. The jeans showed an almost white spot near the creases around Eliot’s… well, around the point where Eliot’s crotch was. The strip was longer than the one of his pocket knife. It could only be his phone and the rubbing had almost left the denim threadbare.

“What are we going to do?”

“The same thing we always do, babe,” Hardison replied and turned his attention to the keyboard. “Research, plan and then, we make our move.”

Out of habit, Hardison let out the crawlers he had planted on Quinn’s account and Eliot’s account. The financial statements showed little movement after Eliot canceled Quinn’s medical bills. They didn't send each other expensive gifts from one side of the world to the other, not long phone calls. Eliot paid Quinn's debt and the relationship faded out.

Without a word, Hardison turned off the screen. Parker’s concerned expression reflected on the smooth black parts of the screen.

The old saying was right: people in a relationship end up sharing facial expressions.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

That night Eliot declined their invitation to watch a movie, arguing tiredness. Parker talked half the movie commenting that it was the first time those words left Eliot’s mouth. Hardison didn’t even attempt to distract her. The signs were worrisome. Hardison knew Eliot like the back of his hand.

After seven years, he knew the meaning of every little quirk and every little grumble. This new set of cues confused him. Eliot was antsy, taking his phone out of his pocket every five minutes, looking longingly at the closest door. Hardison was less an expert on LGBT+ issues, but all his gay friends behaved like dopey teenagers in love. Granted, they were dopey teenagers in love and Eliot was a bisexual grown-up…

“Hardison?” Parker asked after a while.

“What is it, momma?” Hardison noticed he had mimicked her hushed tone.

“Did you hear Eliot’s car going out?”

When Hardison was slow to reply, Parker sprung to action. Hardison looked at the way she crawled across the floor without any nose. Each movement was deliberate and precise. Hardison followed her, first with the sight, then with his body. They peered over the catwalk and looked down.

They never got rid of the recliner chair, they stored it under the stairs and never thought of it. Eliot had pulled it to the side of the deck table and had adjusted Hardison’s LED desk lamp over his left shoulder. Eliot ditched movie night for a book.

Parker consulted Hardison with a look and her lips pressed together. Hardison nodded.

Eliot passed a page and immediately returned his hand to his pocket. The tip of his finger traced the contour of the phone through the fabric. Eliot lifted his hand, licked his finger, passed the page, and then caressed his jeans again. Good five minutes before Eliot closed the book, took out his phone, looked at the screen, and returned to his book.

Parker tried to get up, but Hardison stopped her. Eliot needed a bro and not a sister.

Eliot kept reading the whole time Hardison took to get down and peered over the book to greet Hardison with a questioning look. Hardison shrugged and pulled a chair closer. The book was closed and put on the armrest. Eliot composed a slight smile and waited.

“How’s the book?”

“Classics never die,” Eliot replied and his eyes caressed the book; his hand rubbed his pocket.

Hardison nodded and extended his hand. Eliot passed him the book without comment and his face didn’t change expressions. The book kept Eliot’s warmth and Hardison smiled. The dusty feel of a well-loved, probably previously owned, book sent a shiver down Hardison’s spine. The foil-stamped title was a surprise

“Bro, poetry is not your regular jam,” Hardison commented and returned Eliot his book. “Anything that matters?”

“Hardison,” Eliot growled and put the book in the control deck. “Can a man want some quiet and peace without it turning into a third degree?”

“E., you balked at watching a movie with us,” Hardison insisted with a small shake of the shoulders. “I can count the number of times you have done that with one hand… while holding a pencil.”

Eliot huffed and put his leg into the armrest, leaning hard to the left side. Hardison noted that Eliot put his hand on his knee: he was protecting his left pocket.

“Don’t ask me to believe there is nothing wrong.” Hardison pushed the issue and covered Eliot’s hand with his. “All’s right with _the boyfriend_?”

The silence stretched between them and Eliot’s eyes became hard. Hardison counted his blessings: Eliot was not balling his fist. They let their eyes meet in silence and Hardison looked at Eliot’s glazed eyes. Eliot noticed it because he was the first to talk.

“The _boyfriend_ ,” Eliot sneered at the word, “is going through a massive depressive episode—you can blame his father for it—and he’s on the other side of the world. But that’s not the reason I didn’t want to sit with you to watch a movie, huh?”

“It isn’t?” Hardison asked to keep Eliot looking at him.

“No,” Eliot mumbled and recovered his hand. “I’m feeling guilty.”

Over Eliot’s head, Parker hung from the ceiling in complete silence, but her expression at Eliot’s confession almost made Hardison lose it. He cleared his throat to regain his center. Then, calmer, he pulled the chair even closer and looked at Eliot in the eye again.

“OK, bro. Back up a little and tell me what’s in your head?”

Eliot pulled his legs closer and held his hands together. It was not the first time Hardison had seen that closed-yet-open posture and he knew he had to tread lightly.

“I’m failing my vow,” Eliot had finally said. “I promised to keep you safe _till my dying day_ and lately, my mind had been wandering, wondering…”

Hardison took a deep breath and profited from the movement to check on Parker. Parker was looking at them and making a heart with her folded hands.

“Things are getting serious with Quinn.”

Hardison nodded because Eliot never did things by half. If he had committed himself, the lucky one got things in bulk.

“Are you lovesick, E.?”

“I can’t.”

Eliot spat the words and closed his posture even more, to the point his heels were touching his butt. Hardison noted, not for the first time, that Eliot was surprisingly flexible for a man in his thirty.

“You are human: you can.”

“I don’t love Quinn, Hardison! You need to love someone to be lovesick!” Eliot spat and leaned forward. “I don’t feel stupid when I look at Quinn like I once did with Aimee. My world doesn’t stop when he’s not around. I don’t want Quinn to be mine and just mine. I won’t even bat an eyelash if Quinn is right now fucking half a dozen men…”

“But…?”

“But all the little things you have _trained me_ to tolerate, I want to enjoy with Quinn. All the movie nights, and the celebrations and the…" Eliot dithered. "I want Quinn to be part of all those things!” Eliot finally said and hung his head. “...once in a while… more often than not…”

Hardison looked up and Parker nodded. Instead of reaching forward to hug Eliot, he moved the chair behind. ‘Trained’ Eliot said, and he had it right because he opened his posture and raised his head when he didn’t get his hug. Parker took the chance and landed on Eliot’s lap.

“What…!?” Eliot exclaimed but changed his tone quite fast. “Parker!”

Eliot tried to get up and shake Parker from his lap. With a smile, Parker wrapped her arms around Eliot’s neck.

“We love you,” Parker started and used her weight to force Eliot down. “Quinn makes you happy, then Quinn makes us happy.” Parker looked at Hardison with her eyes. “Am I right?”

“You’re right, babe,” Hardison confirmed and rose from the chair. “It will need adjustments, but we’ll make it work.”

“Your boyfriend is our boyfriend, Eliot!” Parker confirmed and moved to give Hardison space. “So you can chase Quinn’s tail…”

“Or to go for it,” Hardison corrected and sat on the armrest, “because we love you, brother, but not that way!”

Before Eliot could recover, Hardison held them both in his arms and Eliot made a muffled noise. They shared a hug until Eliot relaxed between them.

“Do you want me to find a ticket?” Hardison asked and rested his head against Eliot’s.

“No,” Eliot replied with a sigh. “Quinn went to Prague to get help. He needs his space.”

“But you are in contact,” Parker prodded because the lack of money touching was worrisome to her. “Aren’t you?”

“Sort of,” Eliot admitted and rested his cheek against Parker. “Quinn knows—I hope he knows—that he only needs to dial my number and I’ll be at his door the next day or earlier.”

“Good!” Parker pushed Hardison. “We have a movie to finish. Do you want to come?”

“In a bit,” Eliot said and let them go before he got up. “I want coffee and to finish _The Hollow Men_.”

“Cool, cool,” Parker confirmed before she jumped into Eliot’s arms again.

Eliot squealed his surprise and Hardison laughed.

“And Eliot,” Parker tried to whisper without a hint of success. “If you ever marry Quinn, I promise to get you a donuts cake tower.”

“Thank you, Parker,” Eliot replied without thinking and hugged Parker back, then he got stiff. “You are planning to make it cock-and-balls, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Parker admitted and kissed Eliot’s cheek. “It will be awesome!”

Without waiting for a reply, Parker sauntered to the stairs. Eliot looked at Hardison with a helpless expression. Hardison shook his head and chuckled to his confusion.

“There is no warm water, E.,” Hardison said as if Eliot wouldn’t know Parker as well as him. “You can have her on board or against it: your choice!”

Eliot nodded and a small hesitant smile curled his lips. Hardison turned around and climbed the stairs. From the catwalk, he looked down, Eliot was still in place but the cold light of his phone was on.

Somehow that felt natural.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It’s funny how things work. Eliot had found a groove and Parker and Hardison were tying themselves in knots. The time to sort things out would be when there were the only people in the building.

Around one in the morning, when rain was falling, the establishment closed its door. Their employees had gone home and Eliot went home for a nap, a shower, and a shave. Hardison fired up the main PC and moved the cursor to one of the many hidden folders of their server. The cursor rested on top of an encrypted folder, but Hardison hesitated.

“It’s the right thing,” Parker encouraged and put her hand on top of Hardison.

“It’s a big step, babe,” Hardison replied and resisted the push.

“We have put this away for so long,” Parker retorted and kissed Hardison’s cheek. “We are ready for Leverage International.”

Hardison let out his breath and opened the encrypted folder. He and Parker had been putting together a thick dossier: photos were taken from social media, police reports stolen from all over the world, some word of mouth reports. Parker wanted to mastermind globally and Hardison was happy to oblige. Eliot had provided them the chance to make it work.

“Do you think E. would go with the plan?”

Parker looked at him with a sly smile.

“Wouldn’t you? To be next to me?”

“Babe, I would go to the Moon for you, let alone Eur…”

The back door opened with a bang and a wet Eliot Spencer entered the room, removing his jacket. Without thinking, Hardison changed his desktop display.

“Don’t mind me!” Eliot half-screamed as he walked with a bisk, long step toward the workshop. “I'll be gone soon. I need to fix a leak!”

“What leak?” Parker asked and sauntered in Eliot’s trail.

“Night manager called me because they found a puddle of beer under the bar,” Eliot replied, taking off his wet jacket. 

“I was here!”

“And you were the one who fiddled with the pressure valves!” Eliot shouted from the workshop. The sound of the toolbox dragged from the shelf was loud. “Dammit, Hardison! I _told you_ to not play with the dispensing system!”

“Is it the rain?” Parker commented with a smile. “Or the call interrupted a date night?”

Eliot stopped at the door and cast Parker an annoyed glance.

“None of that,” Eliot mumbled and pushed the door. “I’m tired of fixing things that shouldn’t be broken!”

That was an overreaction to a simple fix. Hardison wondered if Eliot was talking about something else. Parker looked at him, took out her phone, and showed Hardison her calendar. Hardison felt the urge to ask why Parker had marked that detail into her calendar, but he gave up. Eliot's distress was the focus now. They both followed Eliot into the restaurant.

“I don’t want to butt in…” Hardison commented with a light tone.

“But?” Eliot grumbled as he pushed the beer tank from under the bar.

“You know your boyfriend’s birthday is tomorrow, right?”

Eliot slid from beneath the bar and sat on the floor with a strange expression. Parker hopped to the bar and crossed her legs. Eliot’s knitted his brow in the way he always did when something he couldn’t hit annoyed him. After some moments, Eliot turned his attention to the toolbox, picked a wrench, and sighed.

“I’m aware,” Eliot finally said with a heavy voice.

“So, what’s the plan?” Hardison poked and sat on his ankles to watch Eliot work.

“There is no plan,” Eliot said and laid on his back to work the dispensing system. “I don’t even know if I still have a boyfriend.”

“What do you mean?” Parker asked accusatory, leaning from her perch to peer at Eliot. “Of course you have a boyfriend!” Parker looked at Eliot through the mess of pipes. “Didn’t you send your sweetheart a message last night?”

“I did,” Eliot grumbled and blocked their view with his arm. “Every day. No reply.”

Parker looked up with a befuddled expression. Hardison was sure his face showed the same stupor. Eliot was cursing and the wrench made a scraping sound against the bar top. Three minutes later, Eliot put the keg back into its place.

“Pass me the monkey wrench!”

“Did the old Spencer charm fail, bro?” Hardison asked with a muted voice as he passed Eliot the tool, still too confused to process the news.

“Pass me the Teflon tape.”

“Eliot!” Parker shrieked into the confined space of the keg hole. “You are not taking this seriously!”

“It’s not serious,” Eliot replied and extended his hand. “Where is that _godforsaken_ Teflon tape!”

“This is serious!”

The only reply was Eliot’s phone popping vertically. Hardison dropped the spool of tape in his hurry to catch the device. Parker snatched it without plain effort. She was already unlocking the screen by the time Hardison got up. Eliot grumbled and pulled the toolbox closer.

“Is this all?” Parker complained, showing Hardison a dozen of monosyllabic messages. “‘ _Hey_ ’?”

“It works for us!” Eliot replied, wrapping Teflon around the beer line adapter.

“It _obviously_ doesn’t!”

“No ‘ _I love you_ ’?”

“Bro, it hurts me to be the one to tell you…”

“No ‘ _I miss you_ ’?”

“... but you need to step up your texting game!”

“You didn’t even send Quinn cute puppies!”

“Why the _HECK_ would I send Quinn puppies?”

“Quinn is sad, Eliot! You told us!” Parker screamed her desperation. “You need to send him cute puppies, baby animals, and/or silly cats! _That’s the LAW!_ ”

Hardison almost lost it in the last part, but Eliot emerging from under the bar top stopped him. Eliot was not angry—and that was bad enough—, he looked defeated. Parker kept her peace at the look of those tense lips and squinted eyes. Without any noise, Eliot extended his hand and tried the broken tap. A rush of well-pressured draught beer fell to the drain and Eliot sighed.

“Fixed,” Eliot declared without a hint of pride in his voice as he picked up the toolbox. “In case you have forgotten, Parker, we are thieves: we don’t care about the law,” Eliot continued as he arranged the tools inside. “I had already told Quinn I loved him. I told him I was going to be patient, that I’ll wait for him. There is nothing to gain by annoying the living lights out of him with _silly cats_!”

“I’m not an expert, bro,” Hardison insisted when Eliot passed by his side, “but maybe the boyfriend needs a signal.”

“The message is my 10-8,” Eliot said and climbed the steps toward the backroom.

“Some signal people, _humans_ , understand, Eliot,” Parker insisted and crossed the door behind Eliot.

“Police are people.”

“But not humans?”

“The jury is still out,” Eliot snarked and turned inside the workshop to put the toolbox in its place.

Parker cast him a questioning look and Eliot made a point to ignore them both. On his way to the main room, he snatched his wet jacket from the work table.

“What about Quinn’s birthday!”

“I don’t even know if he likes to make a fuss over his birthday!” Eliot exclaimed and threw his arms in the air.

Parker, out of the blue, took a short run, hooked her arm around Eliot’s, and performed a blindingly quick hurricanrana. Eliot grunted when he landed on the reclining chair. Hardison gasped in shock, and Eliot looked at him with a startled expression plastered across his face.

“ _Everybody_ likes to make a fuss over their birthday!” Parker declared. How had she landed on Eliot’s lap? Hardison would never know. “And even if Quinn doesn’t, it’s your _duty_ as a boyfriend to make the fussiest fuss about your boyfriend’s birthday!”

“She kind of has a point,” Hardison conceded with a small shrug, sure he had to keep his distance.

“What does Quinn want for his birthday?” Parker asked and pointed at Eliot with a severe expression. When Eliot tried to speak he couldn’t conceal he was about to argue. Parker extended her hand toward Hardison’s LED desk lamp and shone the light against Eliot’s face. “Answer the question!”

“Parker,” Hardison called because that was a bit too much.

“I don’t fucking know!” Eliot barked as he pushed the light out of his face. “I’m the worst boyfriend ever. Are you happy now?”

“How can’t you know?” Parker’s question was almost a whisper. “You are the most thoughtful man I know,” Parker stopped and looked at Hardison. “and you have very stiff competition. Of course, you know what would make Quinn happy!”

Hardison nodded and moved to the keyboard. By the look on Eliot’s face, they have a lot of mending to do.

“Spit it out, Eliot,” Hardison encouraged as soon as he got his browser running.

“He likes Easter eggs…”

“It’s not the season,” Parker vetoed the choice.

“He likes musical shows,” Eliot offered with despair.

“Not the right choice,” Parker refused the option, “unless you sit with him.”

“He likes chocolate.”

Parker straight out her back, practically towering over Eliot. With her hand under her chin, she gave the alternative some thought before clapping her approval.

“We can work with that!”

“Chocolate it is!” Hardison approved and began to sort out their choices. “Start thinking about something else… What about flowers?”

“Flowers?!” Eliot asked with disdain.

Parker leaned over Eliot, ready to grill their reluctant hitter. Eliot recoiled into the chair with a pained expression that almost made Hardison laugh.

“Is there anything _wrong_ with sending _your boyfriend_ flowers?”

“No, but…” Eliot stammered and got red.

“Talking about it, babe… how come I never get flowers?”

“Tut-tut-tut!” Parker shushed Hardison with her eyes fixed on Eliot. “But?”

“It’s not _my style_!”

“Is it Quinn’s style?”

Eliot, if that was possible, sank even deeper into the chair. Hardison had tracked some chocolate stores that shipped to Prague the same day. Eliot sighed and passed his hand through his hair. Parker sat back and waited for a reply.

“It might as well be,” Eliot admitted after a long silence. “I don’t know. I’ve never bought him flowers or heard he got them.”

“On the bright side,” Hardison commented as he put a search for flowers, “you are too far away from Quinn to bash you over the head with them if he doesn’t like them.”

“I have never done that!”

Hardison smiled, remembering all the times Parker had shown little appreciation to his wooing efforts. The screen showed, the results of his search. Parker climbed down and turned the chair around to let Eliot choose from the assorted chocolate gift boxes.

“That’s not a good selection,” Eliot complained as soon as he looked at the screen.

“Those are chocolate gift boxes _for him_ ,” Hardison insisted.

“And those are expensive!” Parker exclaimed, crossing her arms over the back of the chair.

“And they are only twelve or twenty-four,” Eliot continued, leaning forward. “He would know I hadn’t selected them.”

“OK. What’s the problem?” Hardison asked, noticing the change in Eliot’s attitude. “You bought him chocolates when he was in the hospital. They were roughly the same amount.”

“Those were not just chocolates,” Eliot said and leaned back. “Those were _szaloncuckor_. Those were seasonal, cheap and Quinn loves them with a passion. They won’t do the trick now.”

Eliot got up and looked at them. He had squared his shoulders and the defeated expression had vanished from his face.

“Look, you want me to make a fuss. I’ll make a fuss for Quinn, then, but it has to be the right fuss. Quinn has to know his gifts come from me.”

“OK, what would you send your boyfriend?”

“Look for the biggest box,” Eliot instructed and turned his eyes to the screen, “I want variety and _best price_.”

“Are you sure, E.?” Hardison asked as he modified the search. “If there was a time to blow it…”

“Quinn knows me, Hardison!” Eliot protested without turning around.

Eliot was into something and Hardison complied with his request. The next quarter of an hour included a heated back and forth between Parker and Eliot. They argued everything: flavors and quantities and even the extras.

“No!” Eliot cut Parker’s attempts to make him add a toy to his buy. “I have already won him…” Eliot stopped and squirmed in place before adding: “... _a teddy bear_.”

“A teddy bear!?” Parker couldn't contain her outrage.

Eliot looked like he was about to argue, but he closed his mouth and crossed his arms.

“Won?” Hardison pressed forward with a wide smile. “Was it a carnival booth prize?”

“A country fair booth prize, in fact,” Eliot replied and turned around to look at Hardison. “Any problem with that?”

“You are so adorable!” Hardison exclaimed and verified the order came through. “Have you given the flowers any thought?”

“Maybe,” Eliot rocked on the ball of his feet. “I would like something else first.”

“Shoot! If they deliver, I can order.”

“I want to put an order with a _lahůdky_.”

“A what now?”

“ _Lahůdky_ ,” Eliot repeated with clear intonation. “it’s like a deli, but better.”

“Give me a name.”

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Eliot parked around the corner of their HQ and looked at his phone. He had sent his birthday wishes around four in the morning when insomnia refused to let him sleep any longer. It was midday in Prague and six hours had passed since Quinn saw it. Eliot had gone home, laid on his bed, and watched the ceiling for hours until the sun’s glare on his window informed him it was time for him to start his Army wake-up routine.

No reply. The blue sign mocked Eliot’s uneasiness.

The engine clicked in the cold weather. Eliot looked through the windshield and lifted the paper coffee cup to his lips. Coffee tasted bitter and Eliot could feel it in his gut. This was only the second cup of the day and Eliot could tell that was too much coffee already. His back was tense and his pulse was unsteady.

Maybe Quinn didn’t like to make a fuss about his birthday after all and Eliot was racking his brain to no purpose…

The thought of putting the phone in his pocket and forgetting about it all was powerful. Eliot fought against it. Eliot folded his hands in the _vishudda_ position with the phone resting on his fingertips. It was silly. Wishing was for boys but he had done like a man and wishing was the only thing at his disposal.

Eliot breathed in as slowly as he could. His mind wandered toward that long walk through the quay of the Vltava, with Quinn’s hand holding his. Breath rushed out his chest and Quinn appeared on Eliot’s mind. He was leaning on the counter of that _lahůdky_ near Vyšehrad Castle. That slice of bread topped with beetroot spread balanced on his fingertips. _You are not getting a goodnight kiss!_ Quinn’s taunting smile was wide and honest. _Can I keep my goodnight blowjob?_ Eliot took another breath and wished with all his heart that Quinn picked up his phone and texted back.

Five minutes were enough to determine that meditation was useless to dispel wishful thinking. Eliot sipped the rest of his coffee, took another deep breath, and texted Quinn.

Eliot walked towards their HQ, he didn’t feel any hurry to answer Hardison and Parker’s eager questions. He had no answers. He had called Quinn’s concierge to instruct him to hold the packages until a message came. If Dalimil knocking at his door didn’t cheer Quinn, Eliot would get into panic mode. That man was someone to write home about!

Sun was getting dimmer and the wind was chilly. Eliot was wondering how the weather in Prague was when he felt the long vibration against his leg. The second one was a confirmation and Eliot had his phone next to his ear before the short one died down.

“Hey…”

The smile tugging at the corners of his mouth raised his pitch and betrayed the excitement he felt. Quinn might notice it too… Eliot clamped down the rest of his greeting.

“Hey…” Quinn replied before Eliot could sort out that there was nothing wrong with sounding excited at Quinn’s call.

Bad habits die hard. Eliot picked up Quinn’s hesitant tone, the little rasp of the ‘e’ and the faint tremor in the fading ‘i’ sound.

“You don’t sound like you are having a good day…” Eliot with the most cordial tone he could muster. There was a vague ache in his chest as he climbed the metal steps in a hurry.

“I had had better,” Quinn admitted with a trembling voice and, after a long sigh, he added. “I’m going to therapy.”

“I was hoping you did,” Eliot said and pushed the back door open. “Quinn, you are the strongest man I know…”

Inside the back room, Parker and Hardison were standing close together. The big screen was turned off. They were hiding something, but Eliot had other things in his mind

“Please, keep fighting,” Eliot mumbled and darted an incensed look at Parker and Hardison.

Parker composed the fakest innocent look and Hardison raised his shoulders and his hands like he was accusing Eliot of taking a swipe at them.

“Thank you for the lie…” Quinn replied and his tone lightened up a skosh.

“I know your parents,” Eliot retorted and sat on the stairs that lead to the catwalk. “I wouldn’t have reached the ripe age of what? Thirty?”

“I’m twenty-nine today.”

“May you live another twenty-nine and may I spend some...” Eliot stopped in the middle of his delivery of good wishes. This was the right time. “Just a second.”

Eliot put the call on hold and texted only one word to Dalimil. He had to rise from his seat because Parker was getting too close for comfort. This was not an optimal time to lose his phone.

“Sorry,” Eliot said and started to walk toward the main deck. “I hope you are visible because someone is going to knock at your door soon.”

Parker, silent as a cat, keeled on the recliner and looked at Eliot with a question on her face.

“What did you do?” Quinn sounded a bit cross and Eliot smiled.

“Wouldn’t you want to know?”

A string of curses in something that sounded vaguely Slavic and Eliot laughed before covering the microphone with his hand.

“Quinn’s about to get his presents,” Eliot whispered to his team and returned to his call.

Rain began to fall over them and Eliot wondered again how the weather was in Prague. Hardison leaned on the table with his self-sufficient smile. Parker was gesticulating for Eliot to make the question they all wanted to ask.

“Do you like it?” Eliot asked after a while because all sound was gone from his call.

“Just a second,” Quinn replied with a slight annoyance in his voice. A faint rustling of leaves accompanied his voice.

Hardison mimicked holding something. One hand a shoulder height and the other two inches down. Eliot nodded, understanding the question. Yes, Quinn got the flowers. Eliot heard some exchange in Czech and some noise he tried to translate with hand gestures. Parker was already an overwound spring, but her excitement grew with each movement.

“Well…” Eliot insisted when the silence became too long.

“You didn’t need to,” Quinn’s voice came from the other side of the world, tinted with emotion. “I only needed you to say one thing for this to be the happiest birthday of my life…”

“Hap…” Eliot began but cut it short when Parker threatened to smack him.

“Don’t be silly….” Quinn warned while Hardison raised his hands in desperation.

Eliot looked at their partners and smiled. He had been rehearsing how to pronounce the word to perfection for an occasion like this.

“ _Miluji te_.”

Quinn repeated the word and ended the call. Eliot reckoned he was busy finding a place to put the flowers or scissors to open his chocolate box. This wasn’t personal. His phone returned to his pocket and he faced his family.

“YES!” Eliot roared. All the repressed emotions came out in a flurry of excited celebratory gestures. “He liked his gifts!”

“That’s why you should pay attention to us!” Parker exclaimed and joined the celebration. “We have experience in these things.”

“More or less,” Hardison admitted and offered his hand for a secret shake.

Eliot complied with the handshake almost without thinking and kissed Parker’s cheek.

“Now, what are you hiding from me?”

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Eliot looked at the paperwork in front of him and sighed in despair. Under the midday sun glare, it looked even more imposing than before. He seldom regretted having made a question before.

Parker’s plan was bonkers, but all her plans had a different degree of craziness. This one was off the charts. Hardison had printed all the information Eliot needed for this enterprise. The information was finally organized. Eliot spent ten hours on it. 

Eight teams, the same number of countries, but with a wider shadow. The plan might be bonkers, but it had a chance to work. Then those eight countries could train many more. Eliot wouldn’t have to worry about keeping Parker and Hardison safe. They would be masterminds on a global scale. It could work…

Eliot got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. He stopped and looked around his kitchen. A magnet still held a grocery shopping list written in Quinn’s neat handwriting. The mug in his hand was chipped. It had slipped from Quinn’s hand when he tried to do the dishes. Eliot’s dish-rack looked so empty with only one set of silverware and a dish. His house felt so lonely without Quinn’s jacket by the door.

Eliot leaned on the sink and looked at the dinner table. Quinn’s chair was still askew, but Eliot hadn’t had the heart to put it right. As long as that chair was off, he had proof that he had a month to taste what domestic life was like. A proof that he was not fooling himself with dreams, but with something he had experience and wanted back. 

Training teams would be hard work. Eliot closed his eyes and wonder if that was worth it. Quinn and he had been exchanging texts with a frequency that surprised Eliot. Friendly messages, but without the heat they once shared. 

There was only one way to know if he still had a boyfriend. Eliot made a quick calculation in his mind. It might be around nine in the night in Prague and Quinn was probably wide awake. Eliot took out his phone and sent a message.

“Can I call you?”

Eliot poured more coffee in the chipped mug and carried it to the table. There was nothing to be anxious about. He either had a boyfriend or he hadn’t. He toyed with the files to forbid his mind to wander.

“Is it alright?” The reply came back in a couple of minutes. 

“It is,” Eliot replied and swiped his eyes over the files. _Does your boyfriend need an excuse?_ “I’m bored. I wanted to have a good old chinwag.” 

“I’m having a good day: call me.” The message came back swiftly and was followed by another. “Please don’t ask me about my heart or my therapy.” 

Boundaries. Eliot felt his jaw tightening. 

After a couple of deep breaths, Eliot noticed it was irrational to be mad. Quinn never set boundaries before, but Quinn never let him in before. Nor Eliot had been honest with Quinn. Boundaries were healthy. Boundaries meant Eliot was inside Quinn’s territory.

Eliot made the call and let his hand run through his hair.

“Hey!” Quinn greeted from the other side of the world. “How are you, _drahoušku_?”

That word used to be reserved for the bedroom. Quinn had been tossing it around more frequently now and Eliot felt it like a caress. That word stripped Eliot of all his anxieties.

“I’m fine. Healthy.” Eliot replied and looked ahead. The ghost of Quinn sitting across the table, using the silverware wrong appeared in front of him. “Working on a big case.” 

“That sounds important,” Quinn said and his voice carried his old ironic tone. “Is there anything, in particular, you wanted to talk about?”

“I just wanted to get in touch,” Eliot said and leaned back. “I miss your voice. I miss _you_.”

“I do too,” Quinn said and Eliot could sense the honesty in his voice. 

“So...” Eliot didn’t let the impulse die. “What can we talk about?”

“How’s Randy?”

“Randy is fine. He’s starting a new vest for the next powwow. The last time we talked, he asked about you. I told him you were doing better.”

“Thank you,” Quinn sounded a bit embarrassed. “Please, send him my regards.” 

“Will do.”

There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence. Eliot began to wonder if he should end the call now. They hadn’t crossed any boundary. Quinn broke the silence first.

“Eliot,” Quinn sounded serious. “I want to ask something. You are not obliged to reply.”

“You are frightening me.”

“How was your first cock?”

“What!?”

“I want to know you better!” Quinn replied with a malicious chuckle. “But I’m not ready to hear about that woman you were engaged with…”

“Good. I don’t want to talk about her either,” Eliot confessed. He was not ready to talk about Aimee with Quinn.

“You are not obliged to reply,” Quinn reminded Eliot.  
  
His boyfriend had such a cute way to be pushy.

Eliot scoffed and looked at the paperwork. It was worth it. Eliot was going to Europe next month. 

“Well, get comfy,” Eliot said and leaned right. “I’m gonna tell you…”

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The ring sounded too far and interrupted the small amount of sleep Eliot could snatch from insomnia, but that was not a problem. Still half asleep, Eliot extended his hand and landed on a pillow. Three months were not enough to make this huge bed comfortable. Eliot sat on the bed and looked for his phone. 

Quinn’s calling and Eliot couldn’t let that pass. Their last calls were hit or miss. Quinn had an appointment with his shrink and Eliot was not in the mood to gamble with his boyfriend’s mental health. If he was calling was because his session stirred something...

“Hey…” Eliot mumbled their usual greeting on the phone. “What did the ‘shrink say?”

“Ouch,” Quinn complained flatly, “what did I tell you about that word?”

“The mental health professional, then,” Eliot replied and rolled his eyes. 

“‘They’ have more questions about how the heck we manage a ‘supportive and mature’ long-distance relationship than about my problem.”

Eliot could almost taste the scare quotes through the phone. Quinn still was not over the fact his counselor refused to identify in a simple, elementary school way. Being raised by a judgmental and exclusionist bastard didn’t really do Quinn any favors. All in all, despite that little detail, Quinn mashed well with them because Quinn hadn’t rage-quitted from his bi-weekly mental health sessions and he had been working the pole again. Eliot had the videos to prove it and any self-care Quinn engaged with had Eliot’s full support.

“You don’t have a problem.” Eliot sighed. “Maybe a situation, but not a problem. You are healing.”

“I have a problem if you don’t want to get into my pants!”

“Pretty _mature_.”

“ _Very_ supportive.”

There was silence after Quinn’s words. Eliot could hear the metro’s voice announcement over the sound of people rushing from one point to the other; a busy street, probably near the hospital. Quinn had taken the habit of walking and taking public transportation—the Czech one wasn’t too shabby, Eliot had met worse—instead of driving and Eliot worried that was prompted by Quinn’s lack of job; he hadn’t been working because his heart couldn’t bear it yet. There was never a good way to talk about money... 

“Hey… _Miluju tě_ …”

“I know,” Quinn groaned, but Eliot was not sure if he was complaining about the declaration or Eliot’s pronunciation. “That keeps me going, you know?”

“I hope so…” Eliot smiled a bit, pushing away all the implications; he was not ready to deal with any implication. “Tell me.” 

“You are not going to like it…”

“As if that had ever stopped you before,” Eliot grumbled through the smile. “Tell me, Quinn.”

“ _They_ said we need to get busy as soon as possible,” Quinn said over the sound of metro doors closing.

“Seriously?” Eliot felt like the question never left his lips more flatly.

“I’m quoting: ‘You and Eliot need to work on your intimacy’.” Quinn’s voice was more muted now. Probably he was inside a metro car, surrounded by people.

“That doesn’t mean ‘start fucking’!”

“It does in my book.”

“That’s it!” Eliot grumbled and got up from his bed. He had it with Quinn’s insistence. “I’m going there to fuck you the only way you don’t want me to!”

“If you are going to be a wet blanket,” Quinn replied with a cold intonation, “stay where you are.”

“Try to stop me!” Eliot retorted buttoning up his jeans.

The call ended and Eliot felt his lips curling. That was not a good signal. It only spurred Eliot forward. Quinn was not calling only because he was horny. There was something else Quinn was not spewing and Eliot needed to have his boots on the ground to extract it from him. 

Eliot sat on the bed, dialed Hardison’s number, and put the phone next to his ear. The phone rang for a long time, Eliot had time to pull his boot strings and take his winter jacket from his closet. Prague was colder than Portland.

“Eliot?” Hardison groaned, still half asleep.

“I need a ticket for the five hundred direct flight to Prague.”

“Why?” Hardison mumbled but it sounded like he was walking around.

“Because it’s the fastest one!” Eliot was busy closing all windows and doors. He felt more anxious with each step he took.

“Eliot, what’s happening?”

“I’m not sure,” Eliot confessed and picked up his keys. “But Quinn needs me. I need to fly _now!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next day, same hour.

The soup was simmering and Eliot put the lid on it. This was the sixth batch of food he had prepped, cooked, and stored and there had been no sign of Quinn. It has been four hours since Eliot crashed into Quinn’s apartment unannounced.

Eliot looked at the grocery bags. There was nothing more he could cook. He had no more excuses and he had to think about how to fix his last blunder. Quinn was upset, and he had all the right to be upset. Eliot couldn’t sweep in and play the hero. Quinn was healing and Eliot's hamfisted attempts might set him back. The only silver lining was that Eliot had to be in Germany tomorrow, he couldn’t hurt Quinn anymore.

Depression sucks…

Eliot had been there but Quinn’s path was his own. Eliot couldn’t offer more than support because Quinn wouldn’t take his money or his help.

With measured steps, Eliot walked to the bedroom. He knew the apartment like the back of his hand, ten steps and he was in Quinn’s bedroom.  Eliot smelled cleaning supplies wafting from the room where he fixed Quinn’s practice pole last December. The smell was a good signal.

The door presented little resistance and the aroma of dead roses hit Eliot. Next to the door, on top of Quinn’s nightstand, sat the orange roses bouquet Eliot sent Quinn for his birthday. Under the shadow of the withered flowers, several boxes of medicine, and a small notebook. Then, on that big bed with rumpled sheets, Quinn rested on his side. The big teddy bear was between his arms like a protection charm.

Eliot sat on the bed.  Quinn kept sleeping, too exhausted to mind the intruder in his home or,  maybe, _ hopefully_, finally secure enough to get restful sleep. Eliot peered over Quinn’s shoulder and noticed the trail of dry tears on Quinn’s dirty face. His boyfriend cried himself to sleep. Eliot pulled back and let his hands hang between his parted tights.

Eliot bore the wave of helplessness in silence for Quinn’s sake.

After a moment of meditation, Eliot realized the closet doors were slightly ajar. Such a thing was strange because Quinn took great care of his suits. His polished presence was his signature. It was as carefully curated as Eliot’s sloppy regular joe attire. Quinn would never let light or humidity mess with his suits. Eliot got up and peeked inside; emptiness greeted him with its ominous absence.  Three suits—black, tan, gray—hung inside their dust covers, huddled together like orphans from a fairy tale on the right side of the hanging rail. On the left side, four shirts, three slacks, and six silk ties hung over the clothes iron.  Two pairs of shoes remained on the slanted shelf, under the void where Quinn’s expansive and expensive wardrobe used to be.

Eliot closed the door gently and, following an intuition, opened the next door. Gloves and scarves were still organized with care and Eliot couldn’t notice if Quinn had more or less of them. He pulled the first drawer where Quinn kept his cufflink collection; it was empty. Eliot pulled the second drawer; almost as empty as the first.  Wristwatches were gone, as well as the gold bracelets and those tasteful filigree necklaces Quinn kept for high profile jobs. The empty jewelry boxes felt like an accusation.

Eliot closed all and turned around to look at Quinn. Quinn hadn’t stirred a bit and Eliot sighed. Quinn was, without any doubt, the strongest man Eliot knew. There was a man who had Eliot’s total admiration. Eliot would have folded. He would have taken his place within the plan and would have striven to get his dad’s approbation. He wouldn’t have the moral fiber to refuse his elders’ orders.  Quinn would cry and recognize he needed help while Eliot looked back at all those self-destructive years behind him. Years that dragged him down to hell. Sleeping on that bed was a fallen angel with a dirty face who had been plucking his feathers one by one…

Without making any sound, Eliot approached the bed again, pulled the blanket, and kissed Quinn’s temple. He closed the door behind him and pulled out his phone from his pocket.

“Hey, bro!” Hardison’s voice chirped from the device as soon as Eliot’s call crossed the Atlantic. Epic music accompanied his words. “How’s the boyfriend?”

“He had seen better days,” Eliot admitted and moved to the stove to check on the soup.

“Bad enough to back down for your appointment in Germany?”

“Not that bad.” Eliot stirred the pot. The soup needed a bit more time. “Hardison, I need a favor.”

“Ask, my brother!”

“Quinn has… _had_ this cufflink collection. It was vintage and expensive. Most of the pieces were from the twenties and thirties. He sold it.”

“You want me to track it?”

“If you…”

“It’s in Portland.”

“That was quick.”

“Are you sitting down, Eliot? ‘Cause I rather talk to you when you are sitting down…”

“What did you do?” Eliot asked, feeling how his hand was deforming Quinn’s soup ladle.

“Ok... you are not sitting down. Well, Eliot, your boyfriend is our boyfriend too, or rather our brother. It’s complicated, man! But if he’s going through a bad time, we care too.”

“ _What_ did you do?” Eliot repeated and placed the ladle on the spot saver. Destroying Quinn’s things was not a good move right now.

“Your boy has an impressive record of online purchases. It was easy to…”

“Hardison!”

“I bought the cufflinks. I assumed the collection had sentimental value. Was I right?”

“Those are his grandpa’s cufflinks. On his mother’s side.”

“Well, they are safe in our safe.” Hardison continued with his chirpiest tone. “I paid with your secondary account…”

“ _Hardison!_ ” Eliot felt the wrath mounting to his head. “Stop messing with my personal accounts!”

“Do you want the money back?”

Hardison sounded confused. That sound disarmed Eliot, but it did little to calm his rage.  If there was just one thing he ever wanted of Hardison was for him to stop messing with Eliot’s finances, and his video calls, and his mails. Eliot wanted a bit of privacy. His friend’s bad habits had saved Quinn’s collection, but Eliot was still furious at the invasion.

“That’s not the point!” Eliot grumbled his exasperation. There was no way he could explain it to Hardison’s satisfaction. “Change of plans. I want a contract…”


End file.
